“Tadar’Ro didn’t seem to think there would be any problems once we arrived,” Luke said. Ben frowned a little. He knew that sometimes you simply needed to accept the way a circumstance was, but his father was sometimes so cryptic. Luke caught his expression and said, “Don’t look at me this time. That’s as much as I know, too.”
The jumps were easy and precise. Tadar’Ro had given them directions as to not only where to jump, but also when. It had been calculated down to the second.
“So that’s how they manage it,” Ben said. “They know when it’s safe to jump into one of the corridors. You think it has to do with flow-walking?” Ordinary Jedi could touch the future to a greater or lesser degree, enough to give them a slight edge in combat, but Ben was thinking about Jysella Horn knowing exactly where the hidden security droids would emerge … and exactly when.
“Possibly,” Luke said. “I’m sure we’ll find out. Right now we need to focus on making those jumps.”
Ben sighed inwardly. Luke was still obviously not ready to continue their interrupted discussion on flow-walking. But he felt he was right. If Tadar’Ro thought it useful to calculate the timing of the jump so precisely, they’d be wise to follow his instructions.
They emerged from the last series of jumps to see a plain that was strikingly similar to the moon that Tadar’Ro had selected for their challenge. The atmosphere was similar, but the EMR from the Rift was slightly less and there was at least life on this world. Ben could see bodies of water and patches of green here and there amid the stretches of rock.
“Well, we’re here,” he said. “Now what?”
As if in immediate answer, coordinates began flowing across the screen on the console.
“Set down there and we’ll find out,” Luke said.
THE HABITATIONS OF THE AING-TII WERE DEFINITELY RECOGNIZABLE AS cities, but it was also immediately obvious that the beings they had come here to request aid from strove to be in harmony with their environment. Just as their bodies had evolved to blend in physically with the landscape, the Aing-Tii sought to have their cities do so as well. The landing site, located a short distance away from one of the smaller cities, was in a canyon, surrounded on all sides by steep, almost vertical stone walls. Luke was reminded of Tatooine as he regarded the forbidding landscape, harsh and inhospitable. The patches of green—fertile river valleys—were few and far between and, curiously, seemed not to be where the Aing-Tii chose to dwell. It was as if these beings deliberately sought the harsher areas, as if the challenge was something they desired. If Tatooine was a hot, desert world, this was a colder, rockier one. But as they descended and sped over machinery and homesteads, Luke recognized equipment that he immediately knew was designed to farm moisture. It was not quite the same machinery that he had grown up with, of course, but it was sufficiently similar. He sat with the conflicting emotions of nostalgia and unease for a moment, letting both flow through him.
He sensed them all in the Force as they settled the Jade Shadow down on a rocky plateau. Accustomed as he was to experiencing the vast, luminous variety that was the presence of many lives, this staggered him for a moment. As he had said to Ben, there was something unique about the Aing-Tii presence in the Force.
Tadar’Ro was waiting for them. He stood with that inherent stillness as they lowered the ramp and disembarked from the Shadow. In each foreclaw, he held a long, cylindrical metal object that flared to a rounded bulb at the end. A third device, a flat circle about the size of Luke’s fist, was affixed to his chest. Small lights blinked and chased one another around the face of the circle.
Luke and Ben approached him, nodded acknowledgment, and stood quietly, waiting. Tadar’Ro held up one of the strange metal wands and indicated the bulb at the end, bringing it to his mouth, then handed it to Luke.
“It looks like a microphone of some sort,” Ben said quietly. Luke nodded, lifting the device to his mouth and watching Tadar’Ro.
“Is this how we will be able to speak to you?” he said, holding the instrument up to his mouth as the Aing-Tii had indicated.
Tadar’Ro’s head bobbed up and down on his long, plated neck. It did not look like it was a natural gesture, but it was definitely a nod. He lifted his own wand to his mouth, opening his jaws and extending his tongues. Each one was capped with a small, glowing mechanism; they flickered over the end of the “microphone.”
“Yes,” said Tadar’Ro in a completely human, masculine voice. The sound had a slight mechanical tinge to it, like a droid’s, and it issued from the circular device on his chest rather than his now closed mouth. But it was unmistakably human, and Ben and Luke exchanged glances.
“We tended one of your species. His knowledge of your language enabled us to create this device, so that we might speak with you.”
“I am very glad of this,” Luke said, speaking into the device. He was, indeed, quite relieved. He’d wondered how they would be able to bridge that barrier.
“How does it work?” Ben asked, peering at the device.
“We communicate through pheromones,” Tadar’Ro said. “It took time, but the device is able to analyze the pheromones we emit and find corresponding words in Basic for them. Now. You are expected. Follow.”
He turned and began striding across the rocky ground at a brisk pace, heading for the single means of egress, a narrow tunnel through the sheer stone face. Luke and Ben broke into a trot to keep up with him. The thinner air of this planet made the short run harder than it should have been, and Luke found himself tapping into the Force to enable his body to absorb more oxygen. Beside him, Ben was panting, just a little.
As they emerged on the other side of the tunnel, Luke realized that the jagged rocks they were approaching were artificial constructs—the city he’d glimpsed from above. There was no structure to their arrangement; it appeared as random as if nature itself had created them.
But there was a long, long line of motionless Aing-Tii, standing like the stone themselves and fixing the two strangers with their large, unblinking black eyes.
“They will say something to you. Respond with the phrase the Wounded One used,” Tadar’Ro said. “As Those Who Dwell Beyond the Veil will it.”
Luke and Ben both nodded. Luke stepped up to the first Aing-Tii in line, observing that neither this one nor, as far as he could tell, any of the others held a translation device. This one was a very large male. His plating was chipped, and the geometric patterns etched on them were obviously very old. Sensing that this was a respected elder of the group, Luke bowed graciously. He waited for a name to come into his head, but it did not. Apparently, Tadar’Ro was the only one willing—so far—to disclose such information.
Luke stood still as the Aing-Tii’s tongues flickered over his face. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation; the tongues were not particularly wet, and the touch was light and gentle. Without the translation device, Luke had no idea what the being was saying, but he did not sense hostility, only the caution that an elder of a group would be wise to display.
The elder retracted his tongues and stood waiting for Luke’s reply. “As Those Who Dwell Beyond the Veil will it,” Luke said, bowing slightly. He moved on to the next. Also an elder, this one was female, and Luke got a very strong hit that she was not at all happy he was here. Beside him, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ben flinch infinitesimally as the first elder’s tongues danced across his features. Poor Ben. Luke wouldn’t have appreciated the gesture when he was that age, either, and he was proud of Ben, who endured it with only the vaguest ripple of discomfort in the Force.
The touch from the female elder’s tongues was strangely cold—not physically, but in the Force. No, she was definitely not pleased that he and Ben were here. Nonetheless, he repeated the phrase with all the respect and courtesy he could summon, bowed, and moved on.
It took a long time, but at last Ben and Luke had officially introduced themselves to their new hosts. Some of them were welcoming, some hostile, some entirely neutral in their attitudes
. Luke wondered uneasily what he and Ben might have stumbled into, but he kept that thought carefully shuttered. When the last Aing-Tii had finished with Ben, the two Jedi turned to Tadar’Ro.
Tadar’Ro beckoned them to follow him. Like the nod he had given the two Jedi previously, this seemed to be a forced gesture on his part, but one that was easily understood. They obeyed, following him as he took them around a large, jutting rock outcropping.
Luke was surprised by what he saw on the other side. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Rather than another one of the rock-shaped dwellings, it was a small, single-story house, with four straight walls, a roof, and a door. While clearly constructed with materials native to the planet—also obviously designed for human aesthetics.
“Jorj Car’das,” Ben said, then realized he hadn’t spoken into the translation mechanism. Taking it from Luke, he inquired, “This was Jorj Car’das’s home during the years he spent here, wasn’t it?”
Again the nod. “Yes,” said Tadar’Ro. “We used what we learned of human needs and comforts, and created this dwelling to accommodate him.”
Luke pushed open the door.
It was surprisingly cozy inside. A small mattress, lumpy looking but not uninviting, was nestled in a corner. A rug, woven of colorful dried fronds of some sort of plant, covered and insulated the floor. There were two tables, and one wall was filled with shelves. The floor, tables, and shelves were pleasantly cluttered with knickknacks so familiar that Luke felt an unexpected tug on his heart: repair parts for an astromech, spare parts for a blaster, datapads. Mixed in with these were colorful stones and carved wooden statuettes of various vaguely recognizable images—a small bantha, an astromech, and one he suspected was intended to be Tadar’Ro. It had obviously been a hobby rather than a true artistic calling for Jorj Car’das, whom Luke suspected of having many empty hours to while away.
“Jedi may stay here, if they wish.”
“Thank you, we would like to visit here, and perhaps stay here during the day. At night, though, we will return to our ship. Your atmosphere, while tolerable, is not ideal for us.”
“So Jorj Car’das told us as well,” Tadar’Ro said. “Such is acceptable.” He indicated the mattress. “Sit. We will speak of why you have come … and what it is you expect to find here.”
Luke and Ben sat on the mattress. As Luke had expected, it was fairly comfortable, if a little awkward to settle into.
“You know why we have come,” Luke said. He’d been scrupulously polite, enduring all the face-licking and mystery. But now it was time for him to learn something from Tadar’Ro, rather than the other way around. “I sense that not everyone here is as welcoming as you, Tadar’Ro. Can you tell me why?”
The being considered, then gave the forced nod. “It is best that you know. You are less likely to give offense.”
Ben made a soft snorting noise, but—thankfully, Luke thought—did not speak. Tadar’Ro continued.
“You have said you studied what Jorj Car’das brought back of our people. Then you will know that for long and long, the Aing-Tii have believed that certain things are a certain way. We deeply respect the Force, but do not use it. Not the way others do. To us, it is a thing to be respected and experienced. It is not a tool, a weapon, for us to use to make the universe what we wish it.
“We believe we are being guided. Events are not predetermined, but they flow, gently, to a certain place, in a certain manner.”
He was sitting back on his haunches, his tail tucked under him like a built-in chair. As he spoke, he moved his short forearms in a surprisingly graceful manner, the claws seeming to trace patterns in the air, and his eyes were half closed. Luke felt him even more strongly in the Force, and again wondered at these strange beings’ relationship with it.
Tadar’Ro opened his eyes and his hands stilled, then lowered again to his chest. “So we have believed for long and long. But over the last few years, a Prophet arose and spoke many things.”
“Do you believe in him?” Luke asked. “Do you think he prophesies truly?”
“It is such a strange concept, to prophesy,” Tadar’Ro replied, his voice, unnaturally created as it was, nonetheless conveying his confusion. “To think that events are so firm. Like stone, rather than like wind and water and thought. And yet—he has seen things, and they have come to pass.”
“Coincidence, or misinterpretation,” Ben said at once. “People hear what they want to hear. Keep it vague enough, and a prophecy or prediction’ll fit pretty much anything.”
“The young one speaks wisdom. And yet these are very specific. It could be, as you say, coincidence. Or it could be foreknowledge. The future is not unknown to my people.”
No, it wouldn’t be, not to flow-walkers, thought Luke. “Could it be that the Prophet simply has had good luck, or good judgment, in determining which of the possible futures will come to pass?”
“All these things you say, we have thought of already,” said Tadar’Ro. “And yet, it is hard to discount what we have seen. As I have said, the Prophet told us many things that later did come to pass. Specific, accurate things. In fact, everything he said … happened. Except for one final prophecy. He foretold the coming of Those Who Dwell Beyond the Veil in his lifetime.”
“And that’s really gotten people upset,” Ben said.
“It has indeed,” Tadar’Ro said. “Especially because a few weeks ago, the Prophet became one with the Force—and we have had no sign of the coming of Those Who Dwell Beyond the Veil.”
Ben grimaced slightly and glanced at his father. “So it’s been made apparent that he wasn’t infallible, then.”
Tadar’Ro made an odd, ducking motion with his head, and Luke sensed his agitation. “His death has thrown my people into an uproar. We have become divided … we, who never had schisms or even disagreements that were anything more than trivial. Now there is anger sown, and accusations of deception, or worse. We—are tearing ourselves apart.”
The pain he felt pulsed like a raw wound in the Force. Luke felt it almost as his own, and he saw Ben wince a little, as well.
“We cannot serve in this way. Not when we are focused on our own hatred and fear and desire to be right. We must find resolution on this matter. And that, Jedi Luke Skywalker and Jedi Ben Skywalker, is the only reason we permitted you to come.”
“You … want our help in figuring out if this Prophet was real or false?” Ben’s voice conveyed his puzzlement. “We know almost nothing of your people, and the Prophet is dead. How can we possibly help you?”
“You can touch the Relics,” Tadar’Ro said, his voice reverent. “We are forbidden to do so.”
Luke remembered one of the bits of information they had learned about the Aing-Tii. They traveled the Rift looking for artifacts regarding Those Who Dwell Beyond the Veil. The data didn’t specify whether these were artifacts created by the deities, or if they were collected to please them.
“It is my understanding,” Luke began, feeling his way cautiously, “that your faith tells you to gather these … Relics.”
Tadar’Ro nodded. “It is our sacred calling to do this,” he agreed. “We find them, and recover them, and bring them here. It is through these items that we can perhaps determine the will of Those Who Dwell Beyond the Veil.”
“They are … of these beings?”
“We believe them to be, yes.”
“And yet, you can’t touch them.”
Again Tadar’Ro nodded. “It is blasphemy. Only infidels may handle them freely without offending Those Who Dwell Beyond the Veil.”
“That must make it difficult to study, if you can’t touch them,” said Ben.
“It does. We have managed, however, to keep to both sacred laws—to gather, and not to defile. We have enlisted aid from time to time.”
Luke nodded, awareness dawning. “Jorj Car’das,” he said. “Yoda sent him to you for healing, and you did so provided he learn everything about you.”
“Once he unde
rstood us, he could aid us. He was very useful.”
“You knew him?” Ben asked.
“I did. I was sad when he finally departed.”
“And because of him, you were the one appointed to challenge us,” Luke said. “To see if we were worthy of handling your artifacts for you, so that we could help your people decide whether to embrace so profound a change in their way of thinking.”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Luke said, “it seems like we are in a position to help each other. Ben and I can peruse these Relics and tell you what we find out. I give you my word that we will handle them with the utmost respect.”
“I know you will. I have been with you in the Force. Had I not deemed you able to behave so toward our most sacred items, you would not have survived your challenge.”
Ben looked skeptical, but Luke nodded. If the Aing-Tii could flow-walk, could alter time, it would have been quite possible to—as Jysella Horn had done—anticipate movements and kill the two Jedi on the inhospitable moon. Not to mention that the giant Sanhedrim ship they had initially encountered could have destroyed the Jade Shadow with ease.
“In return, we would like for you to tell us everything you know about Jacen Solo. Your impressions of him, what he learned, what he did here. I’m guessing that you instructed him?”
“Yes. Because of my knowledge of humanity through my interaction with Jorj Car’das, it was thought best if I instructed Jacen Solo.”
“And you will tell us of the time you spent with him then?”
“And teach me flow-walking?” Ben blurted.
Luke’s head whipped around to stare at his son. Ben continued before Luke could interrupt, “I think that it’s important that we learn all we can, Dad. I think if Jacen knew something, some skill, some technique—we should, too. We’re trying to retrace his steps, after all. Find out if it was during this journey that he started to go dark.”
Luke remained silent. He knew that Ben had not protested when Luke alone was instructed in the hassat-durr by the Baran Do Sages because he had not been all that interested in learning the technique. This request was purely selfish—motivated only by Ben’s curiosity. He opened his mouth to speak, to gently reprimand Ben, but Tadar’Ro beat him to it.
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi II: Omen Page 15